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Sunday, January 17, 2010

I hate this feeling of being locked up in a room with no escape. Its like being deaf when music is your life. Why is this happening ? This feels so wrong…This was not how it was supposed to go. Things were not supposed to change like this. I was supposed to write and change the world and change human thinking and do all of those unbelievable things we humans think we can do.

My future was supposed to be bright and glittering and sprinkled with millions of fairy lights. It was not supposed to be locked in this dark and dingy room . I feel so claustrophobic inside. It feels like a big red cross mark at the dead end of a long and never-ending tunnel.

There are words but no meaning. Notes but no music. Its like my heart is singing “I walk this empty street on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams where the city sleepsand I'm the only one and I walk alone...I walk alone...I walk alone”

I feel clogged up. Held back by my own desires . Drained out of my blood , my own poison , My own creativity. But after sometime I accept this stage of uncontrollable darkness. Complacency is the word for this feeling. I feel like I can live with it. Like I can make new dreams out of this NEW BLACK and spin them around and make them work .

THEN you come along.

You tell me to snap out of this lulled reverie , to get REAL , to live it up. Indirectly you were telling me to get a LIFE!

I feel bad , dejected.But then I realize that you are right because WRITING is my life and without it I am lifeless…Without it I am lost in an ocean ,drowning in fear just waiting and hoping to be rescued.

But I got saved.

I was the lucky one.I saw light again after darkness. I saw the BREAKING DAWN.

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About Me

A teenager. A cook. An aspiring writer. The owner of a future restaurant. A blogger. A facebooker. A person with a lurid imagination. An Ipod and dogs lover. A tweeter. A best friend.An amateur photographer.
And MOST importantly, A Cynical Vagabond.